Lies of the Apocalypse Children
by BlueApollo
Summary: The twin children of Grandmaster Tactician Robin have proved to be a powerful duo against the all that threatens their world, but when only one of them is able to make the jump back in time, how far will they go to cover up the dark future in store for their parents?


**A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of _Lies of the Apocalypse Children_. This all comes from a terrible headcanon I came up with, so hopefully I'll be able to follow through with this idea completely through this fanfiction. This chapter was a little shorter than I had initially hoped, so I might go back and edit it later. In the meantime, thanks so much for reading!**

_**. . . . .**_

"_Optimism is the best way to victory, so chin up, Marc! We've got a war to win!" Morgan's eyes were bright as she gave her twin brother her best smile. Excitement was in the air. Enemies had been sighted nearby, __just like Morgan had predicted, __and the camp was a flurry of preparations outside their tent._

"_I know. I know. You say that before every battle," Marc mumbled as he fiddled with the hilt of the sword at his belt. The leather grip was worn down quite a bit despite seeing little use on the battlefield._

"_And we've come out of every single one of those battles. C'mon, I have all of Mother's strategies memorized forwards and backwards. Plus I've got a few of my own tricks. We're going to be fine." __Morgan's smile didn't falter._

"_You say that before _every _battle."_

"_And we've come out of _every_ one of them. __We'll get through this one, too._

"_Promise?" Marc's hand stopped fidgeting and dropped away from his sword._

"_Promise." _

**_. . . . ._**

Morgan had lied to him.

In the heat of battle, the brown-haired girl was firing off commands with the speed and grace that could only belong to the child of the great tactician Robin. Marc couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest every time her heard her voice call out across the field or saw her give a hand signal to someone close by for more general orders. Her planning had made the battle flow well for them so far – casualties were low on their side as the Risen fell from blades and spells alike. Marc couldn't help but think that this was just one very large game of chess for Morgan; even her face looked exactly the same as it did whenever he was about to lose a game to her. It wouldn't be long before they forced the enemy to retreat for the day, then they could regroup for the big assault that would inevitably occur in the next few days. All was going according to Morgan's plans, every last step.

Marc couldn't help but revel in his sister's brilliance as he swerved to Severa's defense in accordance with one of Morgan's orders. It had been a quick call, just a shout from Morgan, but it was fast enough to keep their comrade out of harm's way. Of course, he also had to give credit to the mare he was riding. His father's horse had always responded well to sharp turns, and even her age had yet to hinder that ability. Marc flashed a smile down at Severa after she had made her deadly counterattack against the Risen soldier, but she only gave him her usual snide remark before dashing a few meters away to take on another enemy. Marc was about to go after her to make sure she didn't overwhelm herself when something else caught his attention.

"Marc! Not that way! Come ba-"

He had only seen a bright flash, the obvious mark of a Thoron spell. His back had still been turned, his horse leaping in the wrong direction. Time seemed to slow as he pulled his mare and whirled her around in the hopes that he would be fast enough. By that point Morgan was already falling. A few bolts of electricity flickered around her before she hit the ground with a barely audible _thump_. Her Levin Sword landed beside her, its once pristine blade now dirtied by the dust of the battlefield.

If only he had been next to her. If only he had been fast enough. If only this. If only that. Her brown eyes were dull and blank when he pulled up next to her – even he could see that from atop his horse. Marc caught a glimpse of Brady holding a staff high in the air a few meters away, but the expression on his face was grim. Despite the staff's bright glow, the healing magic wasn't reacting to the girl at all. Morgan wasn't waking up. She wasn't moving. She wasn't breathing.

"We're not done yet, Marc! Stop wasting our time!" A tug on the reins from Severa and a startled jump from his horse snapped Marc back into the moment. Fighting. Right. They were fighting. In a battle. He just had to hit people with the pointy end of a stick. Simple. He could do that. Severa released the reins and gestured for him to follow her. A moment later and she was a blur of pigtails and sword, tearing through the next enemy while Marc tried his best to summon the minimal amount of effort necessary to continue. Jump, stab, turn, repeat. Change to a sword for this enemy. This one required his lance again. Throw a javelin at that one. Take a hit. Take another hit. Stab again.

Don't think.

Don't die.


End file.
